It is for Moli that I have to endure the extra trouble. There is no hassle at the office from ten to five. The phone is kept conveniently on a separate stand next to the seat in the chamber. The receiver comes to hand by leaning back in the two-and-a-half-thousand-rupee all-purpose chair or by extending the left hand. If you want, you can put it to your ear and mouth and say hello, or you can leave it. If someone hears the ‘kring kring’ sound, someone from the office will surely pick it up. But the one at home is the trouble. It has no sense of time, it rings at any time and drives me crazy. You are just about to sit down at the dining table and put food in your mouth, and just then the telephone will scream. And yet, surprisingly, Moli, at whose insistence the line was extended from the office to the residence, is then indifferent. When the phone rings in the morning or evening, she might be lying on the cot, flipping through the glossy colorful pictures of Eve’s magazine, or in the afternoon, with her hair down, she might be lamenting after seeing an advertisement in a magazine, “Oh, what a hassle I have to go through with wet hair because I don’t have a five-hundred-rupee hair dryer like this.” On the other hand, the phone will keep ringing.
The phone has been ringing continuously since before dawn. Hearing the sound, Brajamohan wakes up with a start. It’s a lot like waking up to the alarm of a clock in childhood. Opening his eyes, Brajamohan sees the tiny telephone instrument on the small table next to the wall, making a continuous ‘ghyanor ghyanor’ sound. As his sweet morning sleep is ruined, the lovely, bright red, polished telephone instrument seems very unpleasant to him. Still, to stop its restlessness, Brajamohan gets up from the cot. He goes to the side of the wall, pulls the lovely one from the small table, brings it to his mouth, and says, “Hello.”
“Are you Mr. Chowdhury?”
“Yes.” “Good morning, I am the district president, Abinash Roy, speaking!”
“Okay, what’s the matter?” “Could you please call Moli?”
Brajamohan glanced at Moli. She is lying on her stomach on the cot like a dead frog, unconscious. Now even her father doesn’t have the guts to call Moli to the phone. He remains silent for a while and then says, “Listen, Moli can’t be called now. You better ring later.” Saying this, Brajamohan wants to hang up the phone. But the sound waves from the other end, transmitted electrically, hold Brajamohan like a magnet. Abinash Roy is saying, “Listen, Moli was with me last evening. She said she would attend the party’s mandal committee meeting in the morning, so I should ring her early. Just tell her I called, that will be enough.”
Brajamohan gets angry. But he cannot convey it to Abinash through this telephone. He clenches his teeth, controls his anger, and says sweetly, “Listen, she is in the toilet.” Saying this, he hangs up the phone.
Moli returned home at ten o’clock last night. Nowadays, she is often out for party work. After the emergency, when the entire party in the area was beaten and limping, Moli’s mind was stirred to strengthen the shaky structure of the country. She set out with a bag on her shoulder. If she moves forward with a strong step, Moli Chowdhury can be elected by the people’s vote and fill the apparent vacuum of political leadership. Moli feels very happy thinking about these things herself. Moli’s patriotism, which has suddenly taken hold of her in middle age, has not brought any special change in Brajamohan’s married life. Brajamohan, who has been employed after finishing the final stage of his university studies, drives his youth like a bridled horse with a heart full of colorful hopes. Then, unexpectedly, the teenage Moli appears before him. Brajamohan cannot ignore the pull of Moli’s lotus-like eyes. As if by the command of some magician, the furiously spinning machine suddenly stops. Brajamohan takes Moli as his companion in his arms. But after a few days, Brajamohan realizes that the honeyed phase of married life is quickly evaporating like open camphor. Moli’s deer-like eyes with kohl cast a magical spell on the hunter’s mind. Apparently, Moli is calm and polished. Although her gentle, sweet gaze draws everyone close, she is as restless as a swift mountain river, taking a turn every now and then. But Brajamohan cannot completely ignore Moli. As a result of living together day after day, although they represent a family with children, its bond is not very strong or unbreakable, like a loose, tangled old thread lying side by side.
“You have to give jobs to a few of our people in your office.”
Moli had said this to Brajamohan before going to sleep. He had not answered then. After receiving Abinash Roy’s phone call, Brajamohan felt that by ‘our people,’ Moli meant her party. Even before the formal order for the appointment of new people came from the state office, whispers started circulating in Brajamohan’s office. The air became hot as soon as the formal order arrived. The visits and loitering of the memsahibs, the big babus, and the small babus increased. Memsahib Majumdar, after drinking the water of seven ghats, has now firmly established her footing here. He is a very efficient person, and with his ‘hammer-and-tongs’ knowledge, he has climbed one ladder after another and is now the head of the department in terms of rank. Majumdar knows very well when to push the big boss’s swing door for special work.
“How are you recruiting new people, sir?” Majumdar asked, entering the chamber the other day.
“What do you mean, how am I recruiting?” Brajamohan threw back a counter-question and looked at him with a sidelong glance.
Majumdar had not expected to be faced with such a counter-question from the big boss. If the tone of the conversation is like this, it feels a bit awkward to proceed smoothly. Still, becoming a little more comfortable, Majumdar said, “No, I mean, the young boys were coming and asking how we will recruit people. We will advertise in the newspapers, the interview will be held on time, and the best candidate will get the job as per merit,” the big boss said. Majumdar might have continued the conversation by adding something to the words, but Brajamohan got up from his chair. He was also forced to get up. Then both of them left the chamber. After a while, when Majumdar had left his side, Brajamohan said to himself, “Sala batpar, a few days ago you took money from the boys in my name. This time I will give you a fig. I will not let you smoke tobacco while I hold the hookah.” Brajamohan has been promoted from a middle-level officer to a big boss. The smell of the middle-level officer has not yet completely gone from his behavior. But what is the use of becoming big from middle if, by virtue of that tag, the goddess of wealth does not flow like an underground river and overflow the coffers at home? Nowadays, this kind of regret often haunts Brajamohan and ignites a fire in his mind. If he wants, he can go on voluntary retirement tomorrow, but he has not been able to do anything special in this long time. Despite being a first-class government officer, he has nothing in everything. But his younger brother Jagmohan’s case is different. He has just passed engineering and joined the flood control department. What has the young man not done in the meantime! He has a fridge, a television, a car, everything. He is now thinking of buying a video recorder. For TV, one has to wait with bated breath like a crow for the fixed programs of the Bangladeshi officials. There is no such hassle with a video recorder. Just put in a cassette whenever you want and relax. Thinking about all this, Brajamohan feels great regret. He feels as if he is sitting on a chair in the middle of a desert with the label of a big boss and is dying of thirst for a drop of water.
He cannot be like Jagmohan. He will never get the gentle, green touch of prosperity. He will have to run around for a drop of water, burning in the hot wind on the dry sand. That is why Moli is also resentful. She is not getting the new materials of the upstart people satisfactorily when she wants them. Due to Moli’s demands and her need for this and that, Brajamohan’s monthly salary is exhausted in a week. Forced by the hardship, Brajamohan turns his attention to the office cash. As soon as he mentions the difficulty, the office cashier takes out money from the locker and hands it to the boss. From then on, one of Brajamohan’s hands is always dipped in the office cash. But for the last few days, the young cashier at the office has been grumbling about this. The other day, Brajamohan was sitting alone in his chamber, looking at a file. Suddenly, he entered and said gravely,
“Sir, if something is not done quickly, there will be a problem. Agarwala, Jain, and a few other small parties are pressing for their payment. There is a deficit of about fifteen thousand rupees in the cash.” Brajamohan looked up from the file at the cashier. The cashier stood in front of the big boss’s table with his head down.
“The amount seems a bit too much, have you checked everything properly?”
“It will be something like that, sir,” the cashier replied.
“Okay, you can go now, we’ll sit down later.”
The cashier leaves the chamber after receiving the big boss’s order. As soon as the cashier leaves, Brajamohan takes off his glasses and puts them on the table. He tries to mentally calculate the amount of money he has withdrawn from the cash. After the sanction of fifty thousand rupees of central assistance for the development scheme came, he issued a purchase order after taking three quotations from Dheerumal Jain & Co. The money was withdrawn by certifying the bill before the goods were supplied. The money will be given to him only after the goods are supplied. Until then, the money will remain in the office cash. Brajamohan had taken twenty-five thousand rupees from there at one go and had paid for the land to build his own house. Later, of course, he had deposited about seventeen thousand rupees by drawing a “car advance” and several “T.A. bills.” Besides this, Brajamohan had not withdrawn any other large sum; he had taken only two hundred or five hundred as needed. The matter of fifteen thousand seems a bit too much. Thinking about all this, Brajamohan gets angry. He says to himself in a heated manner, “You, son of a cashier, are no less. You have taken advantage of the opportunity and have pocketed a good amount on the sly. Otherwise, how can there be a deficit of fifteen thousand?” If it were any other matter of the office, Brajamohan might have become more heated. But in this case, there is no special benefit in getting heated. Whatever has to be done has to be done with a cool head. There will be no problem if the payment to Jain or Agarwala is delayed a little. They understand that having a sum of money lying like this means a good investment. In the future, they will be able to make a good business profit in government transactions by using this as capital. But the problem is with the small local parties. If their bills are delayed by fifteen days instead of ten, they start shouting like low-class people. Thinking about all this gives Brajamohan a headache.
“No, I have to make full use of the opportunity of recruiting people to deal with the sword hanging over my head. If I miss this, I will be shooting myself in the foot.”
Brajamohan decides that he will get down to it with his loins girt. There is a plethora of government files. If the official records are properly filed, even if someone tries to create a mess, they will not be able to do anything in the end. Brajamohan, having understood this very well in his service life, instructs the establishment branch to open a new file to keep the records clean. At the very beginning, he publishes an advertisement in the newspaper for the candidates to submit their applications, informs the employment exchange office, and also forms an interview board with his colleagues. This interview board will conduct the receipt of applications, screening, and written test, etc. Four or five days after the publication of the advertisement in the newspaper, applications start pouring in. In no time, the office racks are full! Along with the submission of applications, a bunch of letters start coming in Brajamohan’s personal name every day. Brajamohan sits in his chamber and reads the letters with great interest. The content of all the letters is almost the same - they are requesting to get a job for some applicant by mentioning their name. Only the language is different. In all the letters, the writer expresses that Brajamohan is a special acquaintance and a close one. But surprisingly, Brajamohan could not recognize many of them. He tries to bring their faces to his mind’s eye by reading the name and address of the letter writer. But no, he cannot match them at all. He tries in vain, like fumbling for a matchstick in the dark during a power cut without notice. Then he gets angry and says to himself, “Damn it, I can’t even find a way to save myself. I don’t have to see what some tout is singing for his own interest.” Saying this, he throws the letters in the basket and presses the button of the calling bell with his left hand. As soon as the calling bell rings, the peon comes. Brajamohan looks at him and says, “Call the big babu.”
Immediately, the peon turns back and leaves. A little later, the big babu pushes the swing door and enters.
“You called me, sir?”
“Yes, what kind of applications have been submitted?”
“A total of nine hundred and twenty-one, sir.”
“Are you scrutinizing all of them properly?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, listen, we will hold the written test for the candidates on the ninth of next month. You arrange for the issue of the notice and prepare the duty chart of the members of the interview board and show it to me today.”
“Okay, sir.” Saying this, the big babu starts to leave the chamber. But after reaching the swing door, he comes back and stands quietly in front of the table. He wants to say something, but the words don’t seem to come out of his mouth. Brajamohan is observing the matter. He says to the big babu, “What, do you want to say something to me?” The big babu, like a man of the earth, has almost melted into the ground. Now, if anyone sees him in this state in the boss’s chamber, they will never be able to believe that this same quarrelsome big babu with a short temper always keeps a bamboo stick ready to get his colleagues into trouble. This is a different, another big babu. In response to the boss’s question, the big babu says in a soft voice, “Sir, a relative of mine - a very good boy, his family is in dire need of a job. He has applied here.” After saying this much, the big babu remains silent and does not proceed further. Brajamohan had thought that the big babu would say something else. Now, if someone comes to him for a job, his temper sours. Brajamohan feels as if some mischievous relatives from a distant land have come to create trouble in his inherited property. Of course, he cannot say all this to the big babu at this moment. He suppresses his feelings and says with a smiling face, “Since he has applied, tell him to face the interview well, we will see what happens later.” The big babu nods his head and leaves.
That evening, Brajamohan sends a message to the cashier to come to his quarters. The cashier rushes as soon as he gets the news. Brajamohan is sitting alone under the neon light in the distempered drawing-room, flipping through some papers. A few days ago, the annual repairing work was done in the room under the supervision of the workers of the public works department. To please the big boss, they have done many things to enhance the beauty of the drawing-room, even outside the estimate. As soon as the cashier enters the beautiful drawing-room, Brajamohan removes the paper from in front of his eyes and gestures for him to sit. The cashier sits in the chair opposite him. Brajamohan picks up the cigarette packet from the small table in front of the chair. He lights a cigarette and, blowing a cloud of smoke, says, “Listen, we will look at the total deficit of the cash later. But now you have to make the payment to the small parties.”
So far, he has only benefited by following the big boss’s orders. He has also withdrawn money from the cash for his own work from time to time. If calculated, about three thousand will still be on his head. Now, to make the payment to the small parties, at least eight thousand rupees are needed. Of course, it will not be very difficult to manage this. He has learned very well how to fry a koi fish with its own oil. He will be able to manage for a long time by giving Ram’s money to Shyam and Shyam’s money to Rahim. But in this case, if there is no big profit, isn’t it foolish to take such a risk to manage this? Thinking about all this, the cashier says nothing. He remains silent. Brajamohan, out of habit, extends his hand over the ashtray and taps the cigarette, then takes a drag and says again, “I will give one post to your younger brother. But yes, he has to do very well in the written test. At least he has to acquire the qualification so that the interview board keeps his name in the panel.”
Saying this, Brajamohan takes out a piece of paper from the fold of a book next to him, puts it on the table, and says, “Here, this has the questions, tell him to prepare these and answer tactfully.” The cashier extends his hand and takes it. He carefully puts the paper in his pocket and says with a smile, “Don’t worry about the payment, sir. I will manage it.”
“Okay, do it,” Brajamohan says immediately. Then both of them sit quietly. After a while, the cashier stands up. Brajamohan also gets up from his chair after taking the last drag of his cigarette.
“I’ll be leaving now, sir.” Saying this, the cashier leaves the room.
Brajamohan, without looking at him, says, “Come,” as he throws the cigarette butt out of the window. After the cashier leaves, Brajamohan sits alone in the drawing-room. He thinks that it will not be right to take a rigid attitude of not giving a damn about anyone in the matter of appointment. In some cases, one has to make some adjustments. It is better to keep the road clean on which one has to walk morning and evening. If there are obstacles, there is a possibility of stumbling and getting hurt. The road must be clean. I will give one post to the cashier’s brother, one to a distant relative of a big babu, two recommended cases from Moli’s party, and also leave two posts for Majumdar. However, there will be a clear understanding with Majumdar that no matter how much “maal” he earns based on those two, he will have to give me one and a half, a total of three thousand. Apart from these six, the remaining eleven will be completely under my control. Eleven multiplied by three - only thirty-three thousand. It’s too meager. In today’s world, it is very small. Anyway, who is giving even a single rupee for free? Brajamohan thinks about all this in his mind and decides on his final strategy. Pay the advance, learn the mantra silently, that’s it.
The daily work in Brajamohan’s office continues as usual, according to the law. The written test for the candidates is held on the ninth, as per the prior announcement. A total of nine hundred and twenty-one candidates from far and wide come and take the test. The members of the interview board performed their duties honestly and diligently and did not let the sanctity of the examination be tarnished in the slightest. The over-enthusiastic guardians and the relatives of the candidates, who had gathered outside, also returned with a sense of satisfaction after seeing everything on the spot. A few days later, based on the results of the examination, the members of the interview board presented the panel to the big boss’s table. Brajamohan could not help but smile with joy when he glanced at it. It has happened exactly as he wanted. How beautifully his desired names are sitting on the panel, one after another, in descending order from the top. He looks at the names again and again and finally, with a suppressed sigh of relief, says, “Well, at least none of what I have swallowed in advance will cause indigestion. Now I just have to finish the rest of the work quickly.”
Brajamohan calls the big babu and tells him to get everything ready to issue the formal order of appointment. The big babu had already prepared the form. He puts the names from one to seventeen from the panel and presents it to Brajamohan. Brajamohan is looking at it very carefully and signing one by one, and just then Majumdar pushes the swing door and enters the chamber. Majumdar has come to know that the names of his two candidates are also on this list. He sits in the chair opposite Brajamohan and, with a smile on his face, asks, “Are you issuing the appointment letters?” “Yes,” Brajamohan says while signing. “Nowadays, there are all sorts of troubles in interviews. Fights among candidates, unruly behavior, and even police firing. The interview here was very peaceful. Besides, nothing untoward happened.” Majumdar says, almost as if in a soliloquy.
Brajamohan raises his head and looks at Majumdar. He stops signing and puts the pen on the table. He says, “Why would I let anything untoward happen? We are government people, we will follow the law. The government will not tolerate any exception to the law.”
“You are right, sir. Justice can’t be denied in the eyes of government.” Saying this, Majumdar starts laughing. Brajamohan looks at Majumdar’s face. He cannot find the slightest sign of pure joy in his laughter. It seems that some secret, complex (cruel intention) is at work behind this laughter. He thinks that when he himself laughs, perhaps others also do not find any expression of pure joy in it. Brajamohan looks at Majumdar more carefully. What a vast difference between words and deeds! He did not say anything aloud, but only thought to himself - “What a wonderful example of a prostitute’s devotion to her husband.”
Thinking about this, Brajamohan remembers Moli. Moli must be deeply engrossed in patriotism with Abinash Roy. They are probably running from area to area for the work of the organization. At this moment, it is very necessary to strengthen the party organization to serve the people and protect the country and the government.
Amader Samakal, November ‘82